


Never Say Goodbye

by EyesOfDolls



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Everyone's kinda a wreck, Fusion, Gen, I mean there will be ship moments but nothing is explictly focuased on one, Imaginary Friends, Sleep Deprivation, Sleep has wings, The Imagination, don't worry its angsty later on, dragon witch wasn't orginally apart of this but she is now, fission, i abuse roman's powers, i dont even know, i guess there's a villian but idk, i wanted a very specfic type of romangst so i wrote it, magical adventure into functioning like a real human boy, pixie wings to be excat, roman accidentally ducks out???, someone does get villianish but ;), the works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-06-18 11:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 14,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15484641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyesOfDolls/pseuds/EyesOfDolls
Summary: Sometimes you want to hold onto the happy feeling and never let go.Sometimes you have to grow-up.Roman felt both.Watching the other sides learn and grow into their jobs fills him with pride, of course! But, he missed the days when they could just swing by the Imagination and just have a good time. Now-a-days the Imagination, the place he feels the most at home, only seems to isolate him further.So of course he played around with the mechanics, made a few temporary fairy friends to keep him company late at night. BUT just like the mature adult he was-- he made sure they wouldn't do any permanent damage to the mind palace.It was a familiar cycle of the Sides and Thomas at day, and himself and whatever he created at night.Still, sometimes old friends just can't say goodbye.





	1. A Tiny Problem

“I can explain,” Roman blurted, fidgeting with his sash, “Just a tiny...nightmare…” he cleared his throat, “That may or may not have escaped, but it's nothing I couldn’t handle of course.” he tossed his hair, its curls tumbling to one side and he gave a shaky smile.

Logan’s mouth twitched, gaze easily assessing the damage. A trail of broken fragments, useless memories, and whatnot littered the Mind Palace’s living room. 

On the couch sat the hoodie bros, with Virgil looking disinterestedly at his phone, despite the death grip he held on Patton’s hand. Meanwhile, Patton had long since nodded off, his under eyes dangerously dark, like the rest of them. 

 

Logan sighed, “Little would be an understatement,” he raised an eyebrow, not missing how Roman flinched, “Are you sure it was a nightmare and nothing else? It is rare that a ‘small’ nightmare disrupts Thomas’s rest.”

“Yeperino, my dear Sherlock-” Roman said, hands flourishing in dramatic fashion, entirely too alive for three in the morning. 

Seeing as Morality was temporarily dead, Virgil couldn’t hold back his heighten state for long and the sheer fact that Logan--

“Roman,” he started, a bit sharper then he intended, scaring Virgil into poofing away,“I’m fucking tired.” 

“Yeah,” Prince’s face fell, and he mumbled, “You guys aren’t looking that peachy, but I swear I-” 

“Ro, we’ll talk about it in the morning,” Logan cut him off. He turned around, walking to the couch and swiftly picking Patton up. Pausing briefly, he added, “Please, get some rest.” before sinking the two of them out as well. 

With mother and father finally went, Roman let out a loud sigh. He flopped against the couch, trying to force himself to not focus on how his beautiful outfit was wrinkling and instead focus the situation on hand. 

After a while he sat up, eyeing the mess, “Nightmare indeed,” he grimaced in distaste, mumbling, “He gets it from me of course, the little shit, but…” he shook his head, straightening his attire, and taking a glance at the Mind-Palace door, which was more of a decoration, before snapping. 

In an instant the mind palace was spotless. Usually, memory cleaning was Patton’s job, but technically the fragments weren’t memories wrecked up by a nonexistent nightmare. More-so the result of Roman...well not really roman….An extension of Roman having a bit too much fun. 

He liked to call them his “Sander Sprites” Little fragments of the Imagination that he messed around with and eventually developed their own little quirks. He used to make them a lot when Thomas was younger, often they were called ‘Imaginary friends’ back then, but nowadays Thomas didn’t really have a need for them anymore. So Roman mainly used them to amuse himself. With the sprites, they would normally merge back into Imagination after a couple of minutes sometimes hours.

Remy, his most recent gremlin, was a bit….different, however.

It had been days.


	2. You Tried, You Failed, Let's Go to Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stale memes, shade is thrown, roman is doing is best ok

Fading into the imagination was always an experience, with the sharpness of reality gaining an unearthly blur to it, akin to an Instagram filter. That alone was enough to disorient the other sides from ever stepping foot in here, most anyway, but Roman simply felt at home with the knowledge that nothing was real. 

When they were summoned it was always disorienting trying to differentiate what was Thomas’s reality and whatever tended to float in from the imagination that only Roman could see. All around him the earthy greens of today’s forest he imagined were heavenly, with a vibrant array of flowers and creatures peeking and popping up wherever he passed. Ah, to be a prince-

“No,” he shook his head, trying in vain to ignore the lure of the forest, the call for adventure, “I am serious. I am here on business I am-Oh are those-” he slapped his face lightly scolding, “ No -no. Roman you royally handsome blunderbuss, no”

He continued forward, trying to avoid plopping down to admire the most gorgeous of golden flowers streaked with the finest shades of lavender, clearly the remains of when he watched Tangled earlier that week.

Gritting his teeth, he made his way towards the center of the forest. Eventually, the trees thinned to a meadow of grasses and Roman nearly swooned when he heard the ever familiar trickle of the river. 

Today, the Imagination decided to switch things up, with his castle of silver, gold, and marble instead being a cottage, specifically the ever fair, Snow-White's cottage. And he always loved those days, usually when work was low, and the mind palace was relaxed enough for him to pump out some especially spectacular ideas with little resistance from the others. 

 

With a flourish of his hand, he none so gently willed the cottage door to open-

“Gah!” he screamed, as heavy death metal instantly poured out of the house in waves. His senses were rattled, and the forest, as a result, seemed to flip the switch in terms of atmosphere. Leafy greens and iridescent flowers, all turned a disgusting shade of sepia in an instant. Usually, it would take longer for his aesthetic to be so easily changed, but then again it was a long time since his space was so...blatantly invaded. 

‘Remy certainly made no hesitation to make himself at home’, he wondered with a curl of his lip, peeking his head in slightly. The cottage itself was an absolute mess, but that’s not strange. Roman was used to a constant layer of torn fabric, broken jewelry, and half-written papers to cover the floor. But the strange thing was that it smelled distinctly of coffee and smoke. 

Both things that had no business in his domain. 

“Remy?” he called, stepping carefully over an idea pile, lovingly named ‘Squishy’ because it was overall the smallest. The music was still ear-splittingly loud, getting louder by the second, but he couldn’t find a sprite in sight. 

His eyes flew to the rafters, “Remy? Remington-” they narrowed, spotting the layer of a dust-like substance covering the ceiling like a blanket.

He dusted the non-existent peasant dirt from his hands, cracked his knuckles, and like the purple, crusty, raisin, he snapped. 

Sand fell from the sky easily, and his culprit was found. Five-Inch tall Remy was hovering upside down, his dusty-yellow wings beating rapidly despite his sluggish demeanor. In his hand was a Starbucks cup from Mufasa knows where, and floating beside him was the tiny-demon stereo blasting it's nauseatingly loud music. 

“Fair Remington?” Roman called, smoothing his sash, “A moment, if you please?” 

No response.

Roman’s smile twitched, “Uh- Remy, pal of mine?” 

Remy peered over his sunglasses, glancing everywhere but Roman

Princey's smile was a bit too bright now, “Remy? Rem? Remy-” he inhaled, seeing no further changes.

“SLEEP.” he bellowed, his voice like a record scratch for the entire room, with the music freezing. 

Sleep jolted, “Wha-Oh,” he swooped slightly, before fluttering upright, “Sup, girl.” he waved, taking a long sip from his coffee, “You ditching work too?”

“Work, what do you mean work-” Roman frowned, “I’m here because you trashed the mind palace at 3 in the morning-”

“Trashed is such a strong word, my sweet prince,” Remy’s wings slowed, “In fact, who’s asleep at 3-am anyway? Time is for losers and Thomas enjoyed my little gift anyway, got to rewatch Parks and Recreation and everything.”

Roman groaned, hands sliding down his face, “Now listen here you are-,” his face dropped and he gasped, “ No, I didn’t-Wait Remy?”

“Yo.”

“When I created you-”

“That's a gross way of putting it, my dude.”

“Not the point.” Roman hissed, hands flinging out, “You mentioned a job earlier? Did I assign you a job when I made you? Is that why you’re still here” 

To be completely honest, Roman couldn’t remember much that night. Thomas had pulled another all-nighter from his urginging and when they had finally went to sleep, Roman had went to the Imagination to amuse himself before the dreams kicked in and he had to turn in. 

“Girl,” he smirked, tossing his tiny coffee behind him, “Haven’t you heard? I’m the sandman, making dreams and what-not.”

Roman laughed, “I’m the dream-man, “ he said gesturing to his princely attire, that was radiating a satisfying shade of light. 

Sleep pursed his lips,“If I remember it correctly…” He swooped lower, now eye level with Princey, “Sweaty, you’re creativity.” 

“Yes, that is me,” Roman’s throat felt dry, “Dashing Prince of Thomas’s every desire.” 

Remy peered over the top of his sunglasses, “I handle the dreams he can actually experience, hon.”   
Roman scoffed, offended, “Pardon me,’ sandman’, “He mocked, “I’m doing my best, and my best looks damn good, I’ll have you know.” 

Remy materialized a floating chair of sand. He spun it around and sat down, facing Roman, “Oh really?” he laid his head down on his arms, “Please, like, do tell me more.” 

“While the offer to talk about myself is tempting,” In the distance, Virgil was slamming his head into the nearest brick wall, “ I must refrain,” Roman tapped his jaw, “A sprite shouldn’t be causing such havok, naturally . So I’ll have to take your “sand” away, you merge back with the Imagination, and the Mindscape is restored... and Lo won’t have my head, agreed?”

Sleep snorted, “Oh yeah totally.” 

“Fantastic,” Roman beamed.

Remy raised an eyebrow, “Girl, JK , like no.” he summoned another Starbucks and took a sip, “You really like think I’m going back? After like all these years?”

“You did agree? But don’t worry the process is nice and snappy,” 

“Uh,” Remy stilled, dissipating the chair, “Well let me tell you a secret,” he landed on Roman’s shoulder. 

Prince perked up, “Secret?”

Taking that cue, Remy leaned in close. The air around them had gotten thicker and Roman could feel his eyelids droop, the pleasant sensation was...was...was..

 

Remy blew a kiss, “Not today satan.” he whispered. 

 

Lucid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> roman sweetie no


	3. 404 Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !!accepting anxiety ep. type vibes. i'm not entirely sure if it qualifies as an anxiety attack, but it's definitely heightened!!

Thomas was curled up in his blanket. 

Around him was an array of different wrappers ranging from chips to varied assortments of candy. The T.V drowned whatever show he decided to rewatch at the time, he thinks it’s Anne with an E, but honestly, he only had the T.V on because the night was too quiet and his house was too silent for him to not have it on. 

After all any chance at productivity today was an absolute flop, since every place they went to film it seemed like there was so much they could do and just...He got a little off track.

Okay, so he really got off track. But he couldn’t sleep either. It had been a habit to stay up to write a script or edit a new video but he almost always caught up on his sleep soon after and got back on track. But lately...he doesn't know. The prospect of sleeping just seemed so wasteful when there were so man things to do.

But now even all those fun things he wanted to stay up to do an accomplish just seemed just as… He doesn’t know, the passion just wasn’t the-

“For fuck's sake, Thomas.”

 

“Gah!” Thomas jumped, hitting the floor with a thud. 

Wearily he glanced up to see Logan, arms crossed, but visibly disheveled. He wasn’t wearing his tie, or his glasses, the only distinction that it was Logan and not some unknown side that they’re keeping from him is the distinct voice, so much like his own, but far more controlled. 

“Shit, Logan,” Thomas groaned sitting up, “You don’t have to scare me.”

“This place is an absolute nightmare,” commented Virgil from the staircase, “What if someone comes over? If we get rats, what then? And I won’t even mention the- No yes I will mention the electric bill that’s most definitely racking up-”

“Well hello to you too, Virgil,” Thomas rubbed his eyes, “Can we leave the list of everything I’m doing wrong for later, I’m really t-”

“Tired, we know,” Logan commented.

Thomas hummed, “You know you’re doing the thing.”

“The thing?” inquired Logan.

“When you cut people off-that thing. Are you doing o-?”

“While I am not optimal,” Logan sniffed, “ I am functional at least,” his gaze briefly lingered on the remaining two spots, yet to be filled, “Roman as of now, is currently indisposed. He left for the Imagination to rest but never returned. Implying that this recurring habit of yours has managed to knock out even...” he blinked, trailing off in a frozen daze.

“Holy fucking shit,” Virgil muttered, his voice adopting a darker tone, “Logans dead, Logic itself is dead, how is that even possible? I mean..” his eyes darted around and he retreated further into the shadows.

Logan blinked, mouth twitching, but still frozen. 

Thomas grimaced, his stomach feeling sick. He dragged the blanket from the couch, retreating into its warmth in a similar fashion as his throat felt tighter and his breathing felt even more-even more- even more-

The dark house seemed even darker…

Was there a time when it was-

Logan blinked, “And he managed to knock out even that destructive ball of energy-” His eyes darted down, “Thomas,” his voice commanded, “ whatever you’re seeing it’s not there. You need to breathe.”

Even though his words, made the situation feel a whole less real-made his chest feel less tight, his stomach still went in sickening waves and he curled in his ball tighter. Logan’s words were there, they were solid, but it felt so easy for them to simply fade. But everything's just been so stressful- so repetitive, so of course, he wanted a small break-.

He just needed some motivation, to just stop these urges to do every new and shiny thing that passed on by, he needed-he needed

Virgil’s mutterings only seemed to get stronger and stronger throughout the night. His voice was foreign, a crackling entity that seemed to fill the entire room, every space, but Logan’s voice still managed to stay afloat it all

Thomas knew he needed to get back on track, and quick.

He needed discipline. 

But first, he will sleep.


	4. Two Sided Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -emotional exhaustion/distress  
> -references to slimy boy (deceit)

Patton traced the constellation bedsheets, eyes glossy and heavy with sleep, but they remained open. He hugged the pillow tighter, “The boys are certainly...taking an awfully long time,” he mumbled, though not even an echo would respond here. 

 

He closed his eyes tight, trying to breathe-trying to breathe- But he just couldn’t stop thinking about them. Logan had suddenly sunk out without a word, and Patton swore he could feel Virgil spike-and spike- and 

His fingernails dug roughly into the pillow, “I-I just wanted to help..” he croaked, words muffled in the blanket. 

Patton could say that, without going into the others, that out of the seven of them, Logan’s room was the best place to calm down or to at least think. Most tended to amplify, like Patton’s and Virgil's, and some were an entirely different ballpark. Logan simply was Logan’s, no fancy tricks, or underlying truth. Just reality. 

Logan had insisted that he’d stay. Lack of sleep tended to make people more emotionally vulnerable, unstable. Since Patton was emotions himself well he was…

A wreck. 

He loosened his grip on the pillow, propping himself up on his arms, “Something’s not right.” 

That morning Roman didn’t return, sure he sleeps in, but he never forgets to at least make his presence known. That might be by dropping by Patton’s room to say good morning, putting a pile of ideas in front of Logan’s door for review, or blasting Careless Whisper nonstop throughout the mind palace.

His arms felt dead, his body prepared to sag at any moment. Patton gritted his teeth, “Sorry teach,” he breathed, feet shaking as he stood. 

He may have been a wreck, unstable, vulnerable, whatever word or phrase Logan tried to use to justify him babying Patton, but first and foremost he was Morality and his Prince needed help.

 

-

After Awhile, Patton managed to drag himself up and sink out of Logan’s room to the metaphorical ‘hallway’ that allowed the sides more convenient ways of accessing each other’s rooms.  
Years ago, the sides didn’t really have rooms, walls, or anything strictly separating them really, but Logan insisted they change that. 

Still, no one had actually used Roman’s door alone or without him present because of the….of the peculiar nature of it. 

Patton walked slowly, hands trailing against the wall, counting each door as he passed. 

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 --

He reached the end of the hall, where the full-length mirror hung. Its frame was painted with deep brown, and smatterings of gold and was carved in a dizzying fashion. 

Patton traced the mirror, hand settling on it solidly as cold kissed him unsettlingly. He could feel the strong grip of Logan’s room waver, before weakening into less than a whisper of a thought. 

His hand pressed firmer and sunk into the mirror, easier then he expected. Patton gulped, trying to adjust to the numbing sensation and tinglingly that followed, but as he sunk in further he could already feel the tug of reality pulling him back, the tug of Logan telling him not to go...not to go alone….

Patton shuddered, jerking his hand back close to his chest. Glancing briefly down, Patton frowned, seeing a layer of sand coating his hand for a split second before disappearing into nothing. 

He traced his hand, brow furrowed. 

Roman never mentioned a sand castle. In fact, Patton knew Roman was very specific about his Prince Aesthetic ™, with the hour or so long rant about the different types of prince’s he was influenced by during breakfast being more than enough evidence. 

His son did not do sand.

Patton closed his eyes.

Opening them, he traced the edge of the mirror’s frame, before solidly gripping it and tugging it open. 

He was greeted with darkness.

No ceiling, no definitive floor other then the one he envisioned was there. 

Taking a step inside he had to brace himself to the numbing effectively snaking inside of him.  
With another deep breath, and glance back he took another step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo
> 
> i already wrote the next part and let me just say i enjoyed it a bit too much
> 
> i also upload these on my tumblr(y-all-no-thanks), but its mainly sloppy art over there so you aren't missing anything


	5. Broken Crayons Still Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -emotional distress/exhaustion  
> -danger noodle sanders is here and will have a major role so heads up

Footsteps echoed, a rhythmic, familiar thumping in a hollow of whispers. They were faint, fainter than the last time Patton was here, but just as disorienting. 

His eyes fluttered closed and he rolled his shoulders back, straightening his spine, but his knuckles strained white. 

He used to do this all the time, but that was before….moving on...All he can think of how sick he felt when he finally admitted his truth. But that wouldn’t help him find Deceit. 

You couldn’t trust your senses here. 

So he trusted his desires....

He forced his hands to relax, and he tugged the sleeves of his jacket just a bit tighter.

Soon enough the cold grip of the whispers melded into a warm assurance tugging him closer to home, to sunlight,burnt pancakes, to just another day helping Thomas navigate life. 

He breathed a watery sigh and opened his eyes.

“Ah, Patton,” Deceit turned around in his chair, straightening some papers in front of him, “What a pleasure to see you.” his lips pursed, critically scanning Patton before his mouth flourished into a grin, “You look as dreadful...y amazing as always.”

“Slimy boy, hey... Patton’s voice rasped as he glanced away, “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you?” Despite being in the center of all lies all Patton could feel was how heavy his eyes were. His shoulders began to sag.

“Yes, yes, I’ve just been relaxing lately,” He fidgeted with the already neat stack of papers more “Y’know with Roman helping me out and lessening my workload by doing whatever he’s doing in his castle .” he spat out, finally shoving the papers of the desk and as they floated to the ground, the papers slowly fizzled into dust. 

“Oh.” Patton’s face fell, “Well I wanted to talk to you about that-”

“About what?” Deceit, sniffed, twirling around a pencil he manifested, “How Thomas may lose his friends because of this? He can barely open his eyes much less,” he stopped the pencil, tightly holding it, “leave the house and I don’t know, fix his wreck of a social life? He wasted all of their time, and now he looks like a complete buffoon.”

Patton flinched,, “Well I-”

“Well what?” the pencil snapped, “What are you going to do? You can barely move, and you’re suppose to be the strongest side. Obviously you enjoy just being a doormat to the others, makes you feel safe-makes them feel secure, well guess what? We aren’t- ”

Patton swallowed thickly, “Shut...shut…” he fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket, not meeting Deceit's gaze. 

“What?”

“Just, shut up,” Patton sniped. 

Deceit stilled, “I-” 

“Shut, the fuck up. We’re all doing our best to do our parts. Logan, Virgil,Thomas, all of them are working hard now and I’m stuck down here, useless. I just don’t understand why you just can’t help-- ” Patton’s voice suddenly filled the space, all whispers disappearing, all lies becoming nothing, “...and just.” Patton blinked rapidly and the whispers returned, “Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry.” he hid his face in his hands, “ Please... just hear me out.”

Deceit threaded his hand through his hair. He twisted the rolling-chair around, smoothing his cloak, and materializing the neat stack of papers in one swift motion. 

He took a deep breath, closing one eye, before opening it once again, more composed, “Yes, it’s not okay. It is all your fault and that was incredibly professional of me to stay in character, please stop talking.”

“Wait, really?” Patton’s mouth felt dry. 

Deceit raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” he sniffed, with a small smile, “Thank you.”

Deceit rolled his eyes, “So?”

“I need you to do something for me. .Well...with me.” Patton offered a hand, “All of it’s so, so, very much optional. I wouldn’t want a repeat of last time of course, but,” he eyed Deciet squarely, and the rush of whispers rushed away leaving the two in silence, “I can't do this alone.”


	6. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -emotional distress  
> -mentions of sickness/vomit

Opening Logan’s door, Patton paused, “Virgil?” he called out.

On cue, the covers shifted and groaned, with vibrant purple hair peeking out underneath the constellation covers. Patton sat on the edge of the bed, playing with the frayed threads of the blanket, the room still silent. 

“Logan’s still with Thomas if you need him.” Virgil finally answered, not moving the covers from his face, “I’m just here to die.”

“Huh? Well, I’m not here for Logan.” Patton shifted to face the blob, “At least not now. I’ve just been staying here a few days...At least until this, all dies down.”

“What, why would you-” Virgil’s head peeked out, “Have you been crying?” He blurted, and instantly winced, curling back into the blankets. 

Instinctively, Patton’s hands flew to touch his face, feeling the streaky mess left behind, almost foreign beneath his touch, “I guess I have…” he murmured, hand falling back to the bed. It was safe to assume his eyes were red as well, to top off his masterpiece of emotional turmoil. It was...new to say the least. 

“Well..” Virgil’s eyes darted downwards, “Well are you okay?”

“Yes of course-” he closed his eyes, shaking his head, “No, not really.”

“Same.”

“Hey, kiddo, “Patton started and Virgil’s eyes glanced up in acknowledgment, “if you don’t mind me asking...what happened ‘up’ there?”

“Well I thought I was doing pretty good, but then I shot us across to the other side Yerkes Dodson scale, thing,” Virgil mumbled, looking away. 

 

Patton’s brow furrowed“How did that happen? Was it me?”

“ I mean… Y’know how I ‘joke’” he coughed, “about how anything could happen.”

Patton nodded and Virgil continued, “Well, it actually felt like anything and everything could happen then and there. More so then usual I mean. Like stuff Thomas isn’t even scared of? Balled up piece of paper? Fire hazard kills us all. Shadow moves? Demon, Murderer, Soul sucking beast. It’s getting really hot lately. Maybe it’s the fact that summer's here, maybe there’s a flaming ball of pure spite and energy coming to destroy us all, who knows? Clearly not me.”

“That’s strange…” Patton searched the patterns as if they would give him the answers, “With Ro gone, Lo should’ve been more dominant.”

Virgil sat up, blanket’s pooling around him, “Well he wasn’t.” He paused, frowning, “He...wasn’t. In fact, Logan disappeared, if that makes any sense?”

Before Patton could shoot him a strange look, Virgil clarified, “He didn’t really disappear, but...he felt smaller? In presence. And something else took over?”

“What...what did the...something else feel like?”

Virgil stiffened, the shadows under his eyes becoming darker, “It felt like...y’know..”. He had a deathly grip on the sheets, “”It felt like… and y’know the thing, we do,” He gagged, “well used to do.That...That... That thing. The thing…” He curled into himself muttering and shaking

“Vir...ge?” Patton reached out, shaking as well, but blinking back the overwhelming feelings surging through him. 

Virgil lurched forward towards the edge of the bed and Thomas felt sick all over.


	7. When the Chips Are Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -emotions  
> -despacito sanders throws shade/is main character   
> -surprising lack of roman for a roman fic

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Patton fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie. He paused for a few seconds, before tightening his grip, “I know it was my idea, but you saw Virgil’s face when he mentioned...him.”

He glanced in the direction of the mirror, but didn’t really look. “Don’t just don’t. No, I don’t think he has anything to be ashamed of--” He sighed, “It’s...a perfectly natural reaction…Virgil was doing his best at the time--No I don’t think it was --his fault either--”

Patton suddenly stiffened, mumbling, “He never comes here though…” the light steps of footsteps soon following. By the time Logan made his way around the corner he was met with Deceit, who casually lent against the wall, cloak draped in his arms and him simply wearing a knitted black turtleneck. 

Logan frowned, adjusting his glasses, “You’re not Pri-Patton.”

Deceit tilted his head,“No, I’m not, “ he said with a smile. 

“I don’t have time for your mind games, Deceit,” Logan raised an eyebrow, adjusting his tie, “Thomas has been worried about the absence of Patton and Roman in our latest discussions.”

“And you are?”

Logan blinked, “Of course I’m ‘worried’. Thomas is worried, I’m a part of Thomas. It’s the only logical to assume it's one and the same... to an extent.” he adjusted his tie again, “Anyway, Have you’ve seen Roman as of late? I’m afraid I cannot check on him myself...” his words seemed heavy, and eyes drifted away. 

“Yes I have,” his grin dropped, eye twitching, “An absolute delight, that one.”

Logan pursed his lips “Thank you for being somewhat civil, this time,” he adjusted his tie again, eyes drifting again before narrowing into a steel gaze, “Has that mirror always bee-” 

Logan’s hands dropped to his side, and he stared blankly. His body swayed, back and forth, but remained upright. 

“Logan?!”Patton’s voice cracked and he jumped forward, reaching for Logan, “Are you-” Patton hand clamped over his mouth and his body jerked back, as if taunted on a string. Deceit threw his cloak over his shoulders, smoothing it out, before clearing his throat. 

Logan’s eyes fluttered, “You’re not Pri-Patton.” he frowned adjusting his glasses.

“No,” he paused, slowly examining Logan, “No, I’m not.” 

“I don’t have time for your mind games, Deceit,” Logan raised an eyebrow, adjusting his tie, “Thomas has been worried about the absence of Patton and Roman in our latest discussions.”

Deceit closed his eyes, “Speaking of Thomas, he wasn’t cooking anything, wrong?” 

“Shi-” Logan, choked on air, quickly sinking out. 

Deceit dusted his gloves, smiling. 

It was only seconds later he was crouched over, wind knocked out of him, with an unfused Patton standing over him. 

Patton rubbed his eyes, as if to make the red disappear from his face, “Why would you do that,” he sniffed, “Logan could’ve been hurt, I could’ve helped him-”

“He was,” Deceit said, standing up smoothly, but looking a little more green around the face.  
“But,” Patton clutched his chest, “I felt him disappear,” he forced his hands to stop shaking, “It was like when he was around…”

“Even less of a reason to go,”

“No.” Patton shook his head, “Even more of a reason to stay.”

“Patton,” Deciet’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I silenced you, of all sides,” he jabbed a finger at Patton’s chest, “Don’t you think that’s more disturbing than Logarithm needing a reboot, or Car Alarm having an upset stomach?”

Before Deceit could retract his hand, Patton held it firmly, looking at him dead on, “No,” he replied tightening his grip, “No I don’t.”

They held each other’s gaze, before Patton dropped Deciet’s hand, looking away. Deceit, frowned, glancing back before finally saying, “Well if that convinces you, then not looking at the mirror won’t.” 

Without thinking, Patton’s eyes flew to the mirror and his stomach dropped.

 

It was shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lo are you ok


	8. Mr. Stark, I Don't Feel So Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- standard warnings apply

Fragments lay scattered, some small enough to coat the walls like dust. The mirror’s frame was warped, it’s rustic paint chipping or completely stripped of color in some areas. In the center of its frame, five pieces of the mirror remained, a glow emitted from each, lighting the hallway in an unearthly blur of colors growing more intense the closer he got. 

As if one step closer could send you falling.

Behind him, Deceit's tongue clicked. Patton steadied himself against the wall, careful not to touch a particularly large lavender splatter, and turned around “What’s wrong?”

Deceit's eyebrow arched, “There’s a reflection.”

Patton squinted, took another step forward, hand nearly trailing the cracks of the mirror.

“Yes, Yes,” Deceit scolded, yanking Patton back by his shirt, and easily striding in front of him, ”You genius. “ he spat, adjusting his gloves, “I hope you do this all the time. Not touch things that are supposed to be touched?” his finger hovered in front of the biggest piece, his eye closed in concentration, as he moved from each one. 

Patton gripped the edge of Deceit's sweater, peeking over their shoulders and struggling to maintain balance on top of his toes, “So what do you see?”

He opened his eye, “Not Roman’s work, that’s uncertain.”

Patton’s face crumbled in disbelief, mouthing moving silently before words came out, “It sure didn’t look like it earlier,” he shook his head, mouthing once more, before simply stating, “That wasn’t Ro. This,” he stressed, “Is not Roman.” 

Deceit didn’t look back, “It is his aesthetic, but it isn’t Roman.” he murmured, hand still hovering in front of the mirror, “We know everything about each other, it makes no sense for our dear Prince to have no tricks, secrets, sides, nothing really up his sleeve.”

“Are you implying he did this?” Patton rung his hands, nails biting into his skin, “ all of this,” he choked, “ on purpose?”

Deceit tensed, “I’d imply anything you desire.” he leaned down inspecting the base of the mirror, still not looking at Patton.

“The truth Deceit,” he pleaded, “I want the truth.” 

“But the truth wasn’t something Deceit could give him. Not something anyone could give him, not even himself. A pitiful life to live, but in honor, our dear Patton continues to live it-”

Deceit stood, eyebrow raised, “What in the name of-”  
“But alas, the truth would be what set our two heroes free,”

Patton pushed himself up, blinking dazed, “What’s going on?-”

“Once Upon a Time: A mistake was made.”

Patton stumbled, bracing himself against the wall, I don’t feel so good… ”

Deceit’s eyes shot open, “No-” he easily strode to Patton, “Give me your hand quickly, we have to fuse now-”

Patton’s eyes, blearily looked up, head lolling, “Why-” 

“A Mistake is all it takes really, to lead to disaster, to lead to heartbreak. Our poor, poor, cursed father figure didn’t realize that till now. “

“Just,” He gritted his teeth, offering a hand, “Do it,” 

To get out of bed is to commit to the role you are destined to perform. To search for truth, you must accept that you’ll eventually be scarred.

Patton studied him. A heavy silence engulfed the room, the glow becoming dizzyingly brighter with each second. Patton took Deceit's hand, firmly holding on, and thinking of happy thoughts. Thinking about everything this situation was not. Everything he was not. 

“You’ll be challenged. Tested. Shaken to your core. One mistake and a search. One hand on the wrong part of the imaginary wall.”

-“In a moment, the silence was deafening, and nothing else existed, but the mirror. A mirror of shattered pieces, fragments of a rainbow growing stronger with each second. A mirror of a rapidly decaying frame of bespeckled gold and the world trapped behind-.”-

They were still disconnected, simply pieces mashed together messily as they felt the mirror’s effect take hold. 

-“In a moment, their lives were no longer their own and-What are you doing here!?”-

-Remy sipped their drink loudly, “Ok, wow sis, like, chill.”-

-“No, I will not, you speckled horror of the arts. Chill? You plebeian, I do not chill I create-- This is my thing. MY THING.”-

-“Ok, hun. Hit me up when you want to have some actual fun.”-

-“Where do you think you’re going? Can’t you just interrupt and leave? Apologize, you-you-you-”-

-“Take your time, sweet-cheeks. I’m on break.”-

-“For how long?”-

The newly fused pair stiffened the source of the voices foreign but still familiar. It was as if at their core they were both-

-“Sweetie, perfection wasn’t built in a day.” -

Roman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an appaling lack of ro


	9. A Whole New World (Don't You Dare Close Your Eyes)

A tunnel of howling thoughts was the best way to describe it.

They could see nothing, but a wave of unidentifiable ideas, so vague and foreign passing through them in streams of colors, before dissipating into nothingness. The voices, correction, Roman’s voice became lost in wind.

The fused pair’s surroundings of broken glass faded into the desert sand.

Winds and thick ribbons of sand whipped furiously around them. Their eyes watered, Patton’s glasses being the thin defense against the elements. Patton winced, clutching themselves tightly, in preparation for the grit to seep into their bones. 

And waited.

….

And waited some more.

Nothing.

Experimentally, Patton took another step forward, his eyes still stinging, but otherwise, he didn’t feel the sand shifting underneath their weight, only the firm reality of the hall. He didn’t feel the wind on his skin or the heat on his neck.

 

“Well of course you do, I’m not here.” Deceit spoke through Patton’s mouth, “You’re not familiar with it?” Patton nearly shuddered from the sudden yank of control.

Patton swallowed his words, “ It’s just...different.”

“Same?” Deceit took over, and it seemed the winds died, “What a boring word choice,” He strolled forward through the remaining clouds of sand untouched, almost as if he was floating above it all, “Neither of us knows that this isn’t the same,” he dug his toe into the sand, lifting the grains up, “It’s completely right.” As the sand fell back to earth, they disappeared into a rush of light. 

“You’re right,” Patton’s eyes squinted searching the sand before his eyes returned to the endless expanse of sky, “Last time I was here, I remember, Roman was so excited to show us something,” he said, a soft smile on his face. “I remember it was It was before the castle. Before our rooms. So Roman created a new house every day, from cottages to caves, strangely a closet at one point,” his eyes drifted back to the near bare landscape, “I remember.... on days where it was quiet it was mainly just trees, endless trees. Of all types and colors, even an entire acre or so of bright pink Dr. Seuss styled trees. It was breathtaking. ” he blinked, voice quiet, “I...I don’t remember what he showed us that day.” 

Deceit cleared his throat, and Patton easily let him take over, “Yes, we all remember, don’t we,” he thumbed the thick material of his cloak, it becoming light around his shoulders. “Anyhow, we must continue to waste time. After all, Roman’s castle will find itself.”

He turned around, closing an eye, before continuing on in that direction letting the full, yet void landscape clear his mind into a quiet buzz. He chose to ignore a lot during his quiet venturing west. The way his footsteps flickered in and out of existence behind him, the little narrator trying to grab hold of their reality, trying to take the firm hold of the hall. Trying to take his control.

But Deceit knew it was inevitable. This was Roman after all, This is Roman’s world, this is Roman’s story. Like it or not Deceit had to somewhat listen to the obscene direction of this lie 

He sighed, before turning North, already feeling a familiar tug on his (Patton's?) heart. 

It was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while writing this i thought it was weird how jekyll and hydeish i made pat and dee interactions cause of how their fusion works but then i realized the entire series is thomas talking to himself so yeaaa


	10. Painted Black

As the sun set, Patton watched in the corner of their eye as their shadow stretched further and further and the sky blot red with Deceit's cloak fluttering lightly in the wind. He pursed their lips, Deceit's eyes leaving from the ground and squinting, “Is something right?”

“It was midday when we arrived.” Patton forced their eyes upward, wincing slightly, even though this cherry sun wouldn’t do much to them, Deceit waited, “It’s been ten minutes.” Patton explained pointedly.

“It’s not the imagination,” Deceit hummed, twirling a lighter lock of Patton’s curls between his fingers, drawing their attention away, “Time functions, exists, and matters until progress isn’t made.”

“So progress,” Patton’ tested the word, mouth suddenly dry, “Progress... in Roman terms would be…”

“That is not correct, “ Deceit said, finishing their thought. He refused to look at the sky, it’s bleeding red even starting to stain the desert sand, instead Patton listened to how the sand shuffled seconds after their feet landed, a slow, off tempo, mess. 

Deceit's presence, strangely enough, was the only solid thing Patton had here. It was lulling in a sense. Slow moving, quiet. A constant feeling of ‘togetherness’ that was…

Patton’s hand fiddled with the edge of Deceit's cloak, “How...how far?” he muttered, cheeks burning. 

“Should be-” Deceit's voice hitched and he cleared his throat, “I don’t know,” he pointedly forced their hand down and the prickling sensation along their neck and face disappeared easily. 

“Dee…?” Patton blinked. 

Deceit stopped walking, “Think about it more, why don’t you,” he turned slightly, as if Patton was behind him, “The more you think about it, the worse it is for both us. This,” He gestured at their shared form, “Is a completely unprofessional, agreed?”

”Hmm, okay...”Patton hummed, their lips slowly quirking.

Deceit's eyes narrowed in horror, ”What,” his voice was small, “What does this mean?” his gloved hands jabbed at their face. 

“Nothing, nothing all…” Patton hummed, smiling sadly, “You just remind me of-” His nose curled, eyes watering, “What’s that smell?”

“Smell?” Deceit scowled, “That’s possible. You should be able to smell, after all, I’m not here. Even Roman can change the fact that I’m less in tune with the Imagination then he isn’t. ”

“You did say the Imagination feels… wrong?” Patton bit his lip, “Maybe this isn’t Roman,”

Deceit scoffed, voice cold “This isn’t Roman. I wouldn’t recognize that delight from a mile away.”

All good feelings drained away, and all Patton could feel was the weight of his eyes, of his exhaustion.

“So,” Deceit drawled adjusting his gloves, “Describe this ‘smell’” 

Patton took over, almost feeling foreign in his own ‘skin’, but familiarity soon returned with the comforting weight of his sweater resting on his shoulders. He sniffed the air experimentally, commenting, “Burning,” he stepped forward, sniffing again, “A lot...a lot of burning,” his voice shuddered.

“Patton…I shouldn’t take over” Deceit warned, as Patton’s hands began to shake.

Patton was already walking furiously in a new direction, “Someone could be hurt--Roman could be hurt,” The possibilities really were endless on what could be doing the hurting, but all Patton could feel was...was...he wasn’t even sure who was doing the feeling now. All he could feel was the dread that had settled inside him, and he picked up the pace.

“Patton, no, it isn’t it is-it’s,” Deceit fumbled over his words, “Imagination, that’s all it is a world of passion, desire, fear. You don’t-You know this-”

The sun angrily shined, hanging low in the sky, but no longer moving. The wind whipped around them, bringing the dark stench with it, ash fluttering delicately from the sky and dotting his reddened face black. 

Patton wasn’t sure how long or far they ran before the distorted sand beneath them slowly hardened and darkened into gravel with a few sprouts of green. He wasn’t sure when he would stop running, but when he did his only explanation was...it felt right.

But it was so wrong.

Amidst the gravel, he had found a village, or at least what was left. 

Wooden buildings sat, caved in and blacked to bits. All around laid scattered traces of life. Torn, burned clothing hung outside of windows, food was rotten and left discarded or untouched. Children toys, crumpled in the dirt. 

Patton felt dazed.

“It’s not another storyline being played out, something to do with us.” Deceit offered tensely, “We don’t want to find the castle.” Patton could feel his gaze being drilled into him.

“If it isn’t important, why don’t you want me to see it then?” Patton inspected one of the buildings, it partially flickering in and out of existence, but the smell still clung. 

“I want you to see it,” Deceit slowly gained control, cloak sinking behind the pair, “We just need-Oh.” Deceit's form shifted, just as quickly as he came. 

Patton stiffened, “Someone’s crying,” his eyes darted, searching the village and he soon started following the noise, eventually leading to a discarded pile of crumbled, burnt wood. 

“We should be doing this,” Deceit snipped patiently, as Patton pushed apart eh wood, hands coated black, shoulders tense. The crying had died down to short, choked wheezing, almost animal-like. 

“Yes,” Patton said,, face grim as he dusted away the remaining debris, “Yes we should-” his voice quieted, body froze over, “We...we…” 

The crying figure was small, barely the size of Patton’s hand. Their translucent wings were torn ragged and wrapped tightly to their freckled form.

Patton’s voice hitched, “Are you ok-”

The figure’s head whipped up, doe eyes almost too bright behind the glint of their round glasses. Their face had darkened for a moment, voice small, shaking with accusation, “Are you a monster…?” 

“Oh great,” Deceit muttered, ecstatic, “This one,”

Patton swallowed thickly, ”This one?” he questioned watching the new figure carefully. 

Said figure had pushed themselves up on their elbows, giving a sleepy smile, “Because my heart’s beating out…” their face drooped words slurring, “of my chest--” with a soft thud, they landed face first.

“This one.” Deceit confirmed, and Patton could feel a foreign sting of distaste fill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes it surprises even me that this has an outline


	11. Tweedle Dee Tweedle Damned

Night time was an all-engulfing silence, their feet shuffled against the sand in the same awkward imitation of life, slow and disconnected. Even the fused pair themselves was faced with a shared mind of silence.

Nothing but the fairy, sprite-whatever- they were curled into Patton’s chest like a shaking leaf, made a sound. Their soft breathing humming some semblance of focus, direction. Though they still wandered, the throbbing familiarity of the fairy, but no clear answers plagued Patton’s mind.

As the last of light sank beneath the horizon, Patton finally slowed their pace, “Should we stop for the night?” he mused, holding the fairy closer to his chest as he eyed their surroundings. Less sand, a lot of gravel and large rocks, and no castle in sight. 

Patton paused, feeling the stirring sensation in the back of his mind swell, and he loosened the grip of his control over the body easily, expecting to feel Deceit's energy to slip into place. But instead of the whispers that swelled and fizzled into a blanket of warmth, the stirring sensation quickly quieted. 

“De...e?” he called, voice small, suddenly aware of how dark it was getting.

Taking a step back into the larger collection of boulders, almost towering over him, ”Dee, I know you’re there--This isn’t,” his voice cracked, “This isn’t funny,” he scolded despite feeling like even his own shirt could devour him whole. 

Everything around just seemed to constrict, it was as if this silence, silence, the silence was a parasite dripping from the pitch black sky, thick in the stench of fire and ash, even inside it quelled and festered. His shoulders were stiff, his entire body really, even the fairy’s limp body felt stiff in Patton’s firm grip. 

His chest felt tighter his voice shook, and he tucked the fairy tighter to his chest, tighter, tighter, eyes darting. His back hit the boulder, body shuddering to the ground in one painfully quick motion, still no sound. No sound.

No sound.

And the fucking stench just seemed to be stronger than ever. So Patton reached again, pushed towards the stirring inside of him, reached for what he desired, for what he wanted. 

His breath caught, feeling the warmth increase and swell dizzyingly fast, engulfing him in his entirety as if it was right behind him. And then it went away. Then it came back, in a steady cadence of harmony, a heartbeat, breathing--

He flinched, water--no saliva drenching him and in a second cold reality hit. His eyes, slimy, opened catching sight of the pitch black sky, of the gravel, and the charcoal patterned scales that hung in his sight. As his stomach slowly dipped into dread as his eyes finally found it’s snout, long and pointed--teeth jagged and coated in blood and eyes slit and glittering playfully gold. 

Patton didn’t even get a chance to scream as he threw himself to the ground, heat licking the nape of his neck. Beneath him, the ground rumbled as the beast snarled behind him. It’s teeth clanging loudly before he gave a devastating roar.

Patton kept his head down, shakily jumping to his feet and skittering behind another boulder. Eyes pricking as he blindly scrambled, rocks flying and digging sharply into his skin in a frenzy as the dragon let out another low, throaty growl. 

“A dragon? Of course it would be a dragon,” He laughed breathlessly, swallowing thickly, “It’s the imagination, it's not real I’ll be,” his voice trembled with the world around him, “I-I’ll be...I’ll be fine, No problem. Dragon? Not a problem.” The stirring sensation flared, buzzing inside him almost contently. 

Almost in protest, the Dragon thundered again with the sound of crumbling rocks. Wincing, Patton clutched his head tightly, curling into an even tighter ball. Just a few more seconds, it’ll all be over, he’ll be fine, he’s Morality. He is Patton. He will be fine, just stay here and--  
Patton’s breathing slowed, hands dropping uselessly to the ground beside him, empty.

The Fairy.

Shaking knees, he stood and the stirring sensation inside of him quieted, almost offended.

The dragon’s back was turned, claws crushing another bundle of rocks the sizes of small houses, so much so that a cloud of grey hung low among the debris. Dragon thrashed, dust went up before settling. Thrash, Up, Settled. 

Patton traced the dents in the boulder, brows furrowed. Not too far away to be seen, Layered curled and limp the fairy. Right behind said fairy, was the grumpy dragon. 

Patton sighed, “Guess I know why Lo didn’t want me to leave bed today.” he said, effectively sliding from the rocks, and ducking as another cloud of debris erupted and settled over the ground. The stirring inside him thrashed, but he ignored it. 

His elbows scrapped as he dragged himself closer to the vulnerable fairy.

The stirring burned.

With another crash, the slumped fairy’s body twitched, and Patton breathed a sigh of relief as he hunched over them.

Burning

Weakly the fairy blinked, their bright almond eyes watery, as Patton tucked his weary body closer to his chest with relief. But it was short-lived, as all sound, the crashing, the growls, the roars, calmed in an instant.

All he could hear the heart in his chest, as he tried to make his body smaller. 

Make his presence smaller.

Scorching.

“Padre!” A voice practically sang, easily filling the space eerie silence with warmth--with hope. 

Patton’s heart hitched, “Roman?” he croaked, eyes wide as he jerked his head around. 

.  
.  
.  
.  
.

He didn’t even have time to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and he turned around to see roman and that is all there is to it yep nothing to see here :)


	12. Once Upon A Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -mentions of vomit/Anxiety

/“It felt like...y’know..”. He had a deathly grip on the sheets, /

You’d be surprised by how many dark spots blotted his memory with blurred faces, sharp tongues, and too loud voices. Of course, he was key to a lot of those tense memories and times, but that doesn’t mean he remembers the why behind them.

Maybe the snake fucker knows, or Logan? No, it has to be-

Patton.

At the sides name, Virgil swore he saw a whisper of a shadow flicker across the smooth mirror and he tugged his hoodie closer, feeling his irritation..no annoyance swell. It wasn’t a secret that Patton considered them, well his kids basically. He was one of the first sides to come to existence and gradually gave way to the rest of them claiming and finding their own spots as well. But with being one of the first, Patton also had the tendency to remember a bit more than the others. 

/“It felt like… and y’know the thing, we do,” He gagged, “well used to do. That...That... That thing. The thing…”/

Even if he was sharing his feelings, that doesn’t mean he was sharing everything. 

Earlier’s bile remained a foul aftertaste in his mouth and not just because of the whole ‘no sleep’ thing, sure Thomas had extreme difficulties sleeping but overall he could do it. It just took a bit more discipline, a harsher schedule, overall, more Logic then Logan could give as of late. 

He glanced at the mirror’s reflection again, breathes shallowly as he took a step forward, eyes darting around the too clean hallway and the almost new mirror. 

A step was all it took before he was doubled over, stomach churning and the every growing unease in him doubling in an uncontrolled frenzy of protest. Before he was a “Light Side”, before they even had names really, the mind palace was an uncontrolled, free for all only fueled by the only three guarantees in there. Fear, Hormones, and Patton. Everything else was a muddled haze, but sometimes Virgil could see snippets of how it used to be, old sides who’s purpose are unfamiliar, old tricks, childish ways of dealing with his Thomas’s problems and all shadows dancing in Thomas’s mind.

Still, those dark spots remained, and at the end of those foggy days, something newer or brighter was at the end. But-

He stumbled up arm clutching his stomach, “The thing...the thing,” he mumbled critically, as he forced himself away from the Mirror, “What the he….no-who the hell is the thing,” he sneered.

It was as if the shadows tugged at him, grapsed, calling for understanding in a language he couldn’t even hear. It was frustrating. It was fucking frustrating. 

Bright spots don’t fucking mean shit if you don’t know the whole picture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> patton's sorta(?) dead but here's ya boy virge!!!!


	13. How Do We Rewrite The Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -virgil talks to the void  
> -the void talks back

Being a literal pile of anxiety and hyper awarenesses, Virgil had expectations when entering or going near any side’s room. Patton’s was a hotspot for regret, Roman’s was a disaster waiting to happen, and Virgil’s own room...was usually pretty comfortable hole of death that he was kinda proud of, but nowadays even there was a bit… much. 

Logan’s room was a constant, which makes sense he did establish the ‘standard’ for the rooms after all. Sides went there all the time to cool their heads, get very specific sources to win arguments, and it was the closest thing to Thomas’s normal that they can get with the mindscape. 

Filled with books, papers neatly stacked on a desk, classroom style bulletin board tacked to the brim with pictures, notes, and a crisscrossing of red string which Virgil has tried to ask about but dammit Logan is stingy with his 2 am theories.

So seeing Logan’s room now, Virgil was a bit more than surprised at what he was seeing.

In fact, he sure as fuck didn’t even know what he was looking at. 

It was the darkness he registered first, it's cool grasp sucking him inside, in a deafening silence. It was everywhere he looked, black, black, and even more black. The wall of books from Arthur Conan Doyle to Oscar Wilde, dripped with it, before disappearing entirely. Bulletin board of crazy conspiracy theories bled into the night. If Virgil wasn’t high key feeling his tongue drop through his stomach and crumple into a burning pile of ‘what in the fresh hell’ then maybe it would’ve been a mood. 

Dizzyingly, he took another step in, towards what? No fucking clue. Really he was pulling a Roman walking into the clear void, or maybe it's just him being emo, but he couldn’t really stop himself. Even as he felt the familiar bile build, seizing his chest tightly as if it could squeeze him out of existence at any moment he took another step forward. 

Oh, he definitely was pulling a fucking Roman, he’s definitely talking, like actually, talking to Patton when he gets back from wherever he went. It was weirdly peaceful, just dark emptiness…

He squinted, “Logan?”

A flicker of something darted against the darkness..”

“Oh well,” he murmured, “Wonderful, fan-hecking-tastic,” Can’t forget the positivity when you possibly may have a logic gremlin or whatever weird thing Logan’s room cooked up.

It flickered again, a light…glowing intensely

And another one…

And…

His breath slowly labored, eyes watering in efforts to get a better look, to take a second look cause oh boy, oh boy, oh buddy, o’ boy he had to take several. 

 

Colors illuminated his vision, the swirling lights, no longer glowing dimly amongst the darkness, but rather, glowing so brightly the dark had to fight to survive. Fight for a place amongst the stars. Swirling blues quietly twirled against his skin, it's whisps leading him into the cluster of swirling stars. 

And at the center of it was Logan.

Logan’s body was limp, clothes crumpled, and he curled around himself. His dark hair spilled from his bun, billowing in front of his shadowed face.

“Uh..” He blinked himself back to...whatever this trip was, “Yo… L you there?”

Logan’s fingers switch, mouth opening, before closing again.

Virgil hissed, biting his lip, “Ooh, I’d leave a message, but” He snapped his fingers, causing Logan to slowly turn his head towards him, “L, I’m kinda pissed the fuck off, so can you be home? Just… just this once you funky little vocab man?”

Logan’s eyes fluttered, “Huh-?”

“Oh thank-”

“-Roman what are you doing here?”

Virgil thinks he felt a train station collapse into his chest and combust.  
“Uh,” he wheezed, unsure if he should laugh or just… somehow hospitalize a fragment of someone's personality, “I’m not Princey,” He slowly started, carefully watching the lax movements of the other side, “ I’m Virgil.”

Logan’s eyes danced with...something. Recognition? Or maybe the lights were getting to Virgil. Even more probable the barely four hours of continuous sleep they got yesterday, despite it being their day off from the extensive weeks of filming and editing. 

Eyes trained on Virgil he removed his glasses, cleaning them, but not putting them back on, instead of tucking them into the front of his shirt. 

“The distinction is rather pointless,” Logan dismissed. 

Ignoring that sting, because ouch, Virgil leaned forward, eyes narrowed and hands swinging innocently behind him, “Pointless how?”

Now uncurling, Logan floated, slightly taller than Virgil, looking down with a critical stare, “You don’t know.” More of an observation, then a question and that alone made Virgil’s skin crawl a bit more than it already was when he entered. 

“What don’t I know?” Virgil pressed, ignoring how his voice distorted

Logan raised an eyebrow, galaxy now gone. 

Virgil doubled over a bit, wincing, “Please, a warning next time would be nice?” Logan didn’t acknowledge him, walking past him towards the bookshelf. Steadying himself, Virgil peered around Logan, “So what exactly are we doing?”

“We’re refreshing your memory of course.” Logan murmured finger scanning a row of books. 

“Doesn’t Patton usually handle the-”

“Memories?” Logan offered, seemingly debating between a Tesla Biography and a 2nd grade Math textbook, “Patton usually hordes the general feeling or effect of a memory, which is why you and Roman react so...strongly to his room. Usually, this is in the form of scrapbooks, pictures, or old CDs,” He listed on his fingers, before his hand flew to examine another book, “I actually record what Thomas learned, as in factual information or observations, at the generalized time. Or,” He opened the book he was inspecting, easily flipping through it, “In our case, the state of the mindscape at the time.” 

“So what are you getting-”

“Ah, here it is,” Logan exclaimed, pointing to a subsection of strangely intelligible text in the book. 

Virgil exhaled, “And that is?”

Logan’s fingers skated the edge of the book, before snapping it close, “General Time: First day of middle school,” he side-eyed Virgil, tense, “Age: 12,” Virgil’s stomach dropped, Logan continued, “Stage of growth: Puberty.”

Virgil winced.

“A few notable events in the mindscape, include, ‘The Talk’, ‘Deceit's new hat’, and Oh.”

“Oh?”

Logan frowned, “Now that I’m reading this, perhaps you don’t know purposely.”

“Well, if it’s about me, then it doesn’t make any sense for me to not know,” Virgil reasoned. 

Logan’s face scrunched, “That is...logical.”

“Yes, yes it is, so spill.” 

“A few notable events in the mindscape include, ‘ The Talk’, ‘Deceit's new hat’, and ‘Him’.” 

“Him.” Virgil’s skin was on fire, with wrong, wrong, fucking wrong singing its heart out.

“You and Roman’s fusion, of course.”

So incredibly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall see why i had to break logan??? he's walking exposition and its hard to resist


	14. And they were still fused (my god they were still fused)

Falling was unpleasant, to say the least. 

His body was weightless, the prickling heat growing, getting closer, and then all at once it was gone. Ice rushed his body, his skin tense as the whispers stirred, crawling up his arms in a steady dance, slinking about his legs, asking for his permission. 

And for a split second, Patton considered it. 

Cold escaped his veins, and Patton gasped, lurching forward. His body shook, heaving out uneven gasps, Hands still shaking. His tongue felt heavy, slick to the top of his mouth. His eyes darted, each shadow seeming to creep closer, only confirming what he feared. 

He was alone. 

He tightly clung to himself, jacket heavier across his shoulders but grounding. 

Solid. Here. Safe. 

He’s going to be safe, Thomas will feel safe, it’ll be safe. 

So he stood, so he walked on.

Another step. 

Footsteps soft and muted, surroundings indistinct as if he stood still as if time ran off without him. 

Another step

But the whispers the grew inside him, maybe in an uproar, definitely not in agreement, so Patton assumed he was going somewhere. 

Another Ste-

He winced, drawing back his foot to carefully examine the glass. He supposes it didn’t matter if he stepped I glass at all, it wasn’t as if Deceit was unfused from him, just silent. No not silent. Indistinguishable. Garbled. A noise without sound. 

He paused, thinking back a bit.

Different. 

Patton frowned, ignoring how his stomach turned, picked the plain metal wiring from his shoe, ignoring the pricks of pink when his fingers brushed the glass. It didn’t matter, it was gone, Deceit’s still here, he can’t get hurt. 

The glasses were small, barely big enough to fill the palm of his hand, and strikingly similar to a spare pair he owned in his room, somewhere, he wasn't sure. Things get lost easily nowadays. Like Thomas’s first memory, some toys, small stuff like that fades easily, but a whole….

He shook his head, following Thomas’s desires, even if the whispers were rather adamant that he shouldn’t. That it wasn’t safe when it obviously was, in fact, safe because his surroundings began to take shape, take color. His hands began to warm and he could hear something….It was faint but it was there. 

Clicking of drinks, the rustling of papers, people talking….

Patton picked up the pace his surroundings taking a rose hue with spots of random color morphing into dangling flowers, hard floor becoming softer, air thick but alive. His heart sang, a smile pinching the edge of his mouth. He pushed back the foliage easily, it unfurling for him or phasing through him entirely. The voices were closer, close, so close-

He pushed back a large prawn, eyes wincing at the sudden light. He squinted and the whispers that were so adamant went quiet all at once.

Patton was greeted with many, many eyes eagerly peering at him. The brightness was everywhere some behind and amongst the trees, one on top of the other like a staggered rainbow. Others were above him glittering like crystals, not blinking. None were on the ground, instead, they all simply surrounded him their buzzing voices and chirps slowly filling the space. 

“Um….Hello?” Patton said, voice small. 

All the noise hushed and the back of his neck prickled. 

In an instant, bright violet eyes were in front of him. He could hear the faint sound of flapping, and the woman’s shadowed face came into focus. 

Grey skin encasing her, as if she wore silk, her withered and wrinkled wings protruding almost painfully from her ghost of a body. She didn’t blink, but rather stared owlishly, honed in on him and nothing else.

Without permission, his body flinched, taunt and unnatural, but away from her, whoever she was, and almost instantly he felt a different type of safe. So different he could’ve mistaken his own heartbeat for a lie. 

She smiled.

Her mouth stretched, a painted red, teeth barred so wide it was almost comical.

Deadly. 

“Traveler,” She said, lifting a limp arm, fingers curling for him to follow, “ You’ve braved his fires, my home is your home.” her light voice hung, unanswered, expecting no answer. 

“Home,” Patton repeated, mouth dry and whispers quietly. That different type of safe slinked away quickly in her presence, everything seemed to drift. Only his body remained away from her and her words remained unmoved. Part of him hoped it would stay that way. 

 

She tilted her head, a bit too far, “Yes, this is your home.” she entertained, the buzzing of the other eyes slowly filling the space and her fingers beckoned him once again, “ Come along.”

But the part of him that mattered wanted to feel safe with her. 

And it only took apart, for him to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so im alive, and the queen has arrived so enjoy!!


	15. Beauty In the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -even though it's only briefly mentioned dragon witch does not in fact have "clothes" her hair is kinda acting like clothes for the moment so there is technically nudity but i wouldn't worry about it

The Dragon Witch is what she’s called, the sprites fluttering about calling to her, threading themselves in her hair with soft coos that she distractedly returned without fail. All while leading him through the interwoven branches, the various sprites peeking their heads out in various stages of undress, some cooking, some nursing, a lot with bright eyes curiously pausing on Patton’s form. All of them strikingly familiar, yet foreign. 

A city of leaves watching his every move and despite the Witch's soothing voice, he had a bitter taste in his mouth and he wasn’t even sure it was his. But feeling the warm air engulf him snugly, with the bitter cold washed away, he’s definitely sure he doesn’t care. He doesn’t have the energy to care. He just wanted to find Roman so they can all be safe again. 

Dragon witch stopped suddenly, and he stumbled falling over his feet, knees scraping the ground. Her lips twitched, “Are you alright?” She swooped lower, face knitted tightly, not quite looking at him.

“Uh,” he brushed his hair away from his eyes, “Yeah I’m fine, “ He stood, ignoring how the forest floor bit into him for those brief seconds, and smiled.

She pursed her lips, settling on his shoulder, wings curling into his touch, “Oh Patton,” she tutted poking his cheek, “Are you sure? I’m well aware of how that snake behaves, even if he seems…docile.” she dryly settled for. 

“The snake….” His brows furrowed, whispers coiling, “Do you mean Deceit?”

Crossing her arms, she laughed hollow, “The one and only…” She lazily took in her surroundings, “Come, inside here.” She mumbled voice low. She snapped, the forest floor melted away to reveal a small cottage door. 

“O-” he reached for the handle, the wooden door creaking open before he could touch it, “Kay….”

Her wings beat, heavy, lifting her from his shoulder, “It does that sometimes.” she said, quickly entering the cottage with him close behind. 

 

“What is this place...” He asked, wonder muted by how grey everything really was inside. Cobwebs hung, the dust settled on every surface, and it was dreadfully bare. Not even the fire-place was lit. 

She didn’t smile, but her face was soft, tracing patterns onto a wall, still not looking at him, “It’s his palace of course,” her eyes flickered up, “You are looking for Roman’s Castle right? For Roman, aren't you?” 

His eyes darted around the sparse room, “Yes! Where is the-” 

“He isn’t here.”

Patton choked, whispers dying without much resistance. 

She hummed, apologetically, “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I doubt you’d believe me without proof. After all, it’s been so long…” 

“Do...do..” his throat was tight, “Do you know if he’s still in the imagination? Do you know what’s happening?”

“Yes…” She clasped her hands, “Sort of…” she sighed, coiling her hair around herself, “It’s a complicated matter...just rest, for now, you must be exhausted.” 

“I’m surprisingly not,” he shrugged internally wincing from how she frowned.

“Well you will be when you leave, ” she said cooly, gaze traveling the room before landing back on his shrinking form. She snapped, small cot materializing, “Sleep. While you still can. Thomas dear just passed out so you have a good 30 minutes before he wakes again.” 

“Well..” He bit his lip, eyeing the cot, a quilt, and pillow neatly folded, waiting, “Okay.” 

She nodded, “I’ll go comfort the dreams, I’ll be back soon.” she whispered hushed, disappearing in an instant. 

Leaving Patton with only the dark and Deceit's indiscernible whispers. 

Patton closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seeing as this is the end (of the year) i id like to thank everyone who's decided to interact with this fic. if it was comments, kudos, or boredly skimming past my overuse of eye actions thank you for reading<3 if everything goes according to plan i can finish this next year so i can start fleshing out my other long fics or if not alskdjfa i guess you're getting this /and/ those other ideas


	16. Be My Guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -uh this chapters warnings are kinda spoilers so check the end notes if you need

Deceit opened his eyes, lips pressed into a thin line as he slid from the cot. Hearing it creak from his weight, feeling the solidness of it remain unbothered. 

Almost as if it was real. 

That was a problem for another time. 

Sliding out the door he sighed, their shared body humming in drowsy approval. 

Deceit gritted his teeth, brushing the hair from his eyes and almost as if summoned by his irritation, the dragon-witch materialized, big eyes and twisted grin.

He narrowed his eyes, gesturing to his throat. 

She clicked her tongue, looking down at him, “You got careless,” she twirled her hair, it’s ink shimmering beneath her touch, “And you got caught, so suck it up you sad, sad little snake.” she looked away thoughtful, “Though..” she purred, and he stepped back, “ if you admit you were wrong and-”

He crossed his arms, gaze unflinchingly. 

Her lips curled, expression ugly and sharp all at once, “Fine, see if I care. My point will be proven whether you’re docile or not, but at the end of the day, you’ll only feel more alone. The thought of it is almost funny as if karma. ” she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking for someone else entirely. 

Deceit grunted, eyes lost, but unapologetic. He gestured at his throat one more time. 

Her gaze finally focused on him, contemplatively…

before she sighed.

“You have one chance, one. And that’s only because I haven’t seen Patton in ages and Roman adores Patton, nothing to do with you. ” She huffed before raising her fingers and snapped. 

Feeling the scrapping pressure in his throat release Deceit smiled pleasantly.

“Bitch,” he muttered flipping her off. 

“You’re on thin ice you filthy zounderkite.” she hissed, wings flaring.

“Likewise.” he drawled, propping himself on the glitching exterior of the cottage, he mentally checked himself, Patton humming contently, so he continued, “So any reason you’re snippier than usual.” he said, pleased to see her freeze, “Normally you have the decency to at least send a letter before you, y’know, literally place a curse on me.” 

Her tongue flickered, curious, “You’re not lying…” her lips quirked, “I’m charmed.”

“You shouldn’t.” he said, “I don’t give a damn on what you want.”

“You should, your power here is temporary after all,” her wings flickered in and out of existence, her eyes solid, “You might as well just admit your mistake and leave once and for all.”

He frowned, scoffing, “As i-” he paused, slowly smiling, “You’re still jealous.” the content humming halted, and he shuddered from a nonexistent chill. 

The dragon witch scowled, “I’m still concerned, don’t try and vilify me.” The air dripped with heat, her beating frantic, “Our Imagination has the chance to thrive again ” she spat, hair parting, her skin taking a reddish hue, body stretching, “Then you show up flaunting yet another, ugh like it’s some sort of toy? Are you playing with him as well, hmm?” 

“Oh,” he blinked, stepping back, his stomach, swim, swim, swimming with dread. She shouldn’t be able to do that. Roman promised she wouldn’t be able to do that. 

Slowly her ghost skin hardened, scales rising from her flesh, “-- acting as if you can waltz into here, take Roman, and waltz out? You claim to know my home, his home, yet you treat it like another inconvenience, it’s sickening.” She breathed heavy, voice hoarse, eyes closed tight, “ The way you treat everything sickens me.” Her eyes opened, slitted violet, aimed at Deceits matching pair. 

All at once, the humming consumed him, his bones turning to ice. 

His body felt like it was melting, all his unspoken blurry feelings sinking into one pot, all of his shared dread, their shred dread becoming entangled. It wasn’t an all-around good feeling, sometimes the waves thrashed, tried to pull him under, tried to drown them both. It tried to complete him, but it couldn’t. Still, they couldn’t deny that they felt like more. And Deceit's face flushed as he finally gave in to the feeling and it felt disgustingly good to feel it again. 

This was definitely not professional. 

 

The Dragon Wi...well really- Dragon snarled, teeth bared, “This…” her tail coiled, wings snug to her towering form, “And to think, I thought he was over exaggerating earlier...?” she tutted, saliva splashing to the ground in fat gooey drops, “You two...well that isn’t fair is it? You have no imagination, love, though at least this time you’re not as...unstable.” 

 

Humming and whispers settled, not silenced, not ignored, but satisfied. The newly formed…form unfurled, new arms snaking from his torso, twisting from his back in rush of grey and black and snuggly hugging themeselves. Legs and torso melding together, stretching, and coiling around itself, jagged scales jabbing out in no particular pattern. Their hair curled, tinted a faint blue and alive, coiling and covering their face playfully. A warning perhaps.

Deliberate, they tilted their head to the sky, hair slinking back in a roar of hisses to reveal an eyeless face, and a pained, too tight smile. 

They’ve never felt more right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings-  
> -slight body horror/ transformation  
> -cussing  
> -emotional turmoil/angerrrr  
> warnings-
> 
> (there are an appaling amount of memes ive integrated into this fic and no i will not apologize for it ) 
> 
> also next chapter /should/ be a pov of someone we haven't gotten yet so lets hope i can stick to that plan if you wanna guess go ahead??? if you wanna ask specific questions about whats already happen please do-- i know a lot of it has been confusing intentional or not and im chill with answering them and clarifying things i wasn't intentionally being vauge with


	17. I AM NOT A ROBOT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -a lot of lying for a chapter w/o deceit   
> -my aesthetic is confused virgil questioning everything

\----  
Last time on ‘Virgil is done with this "mystery" BS and Logan is suprisingly alive’ 

“A few notable events in the mindscape include, ‘ The Talk’, ‘Deceit's new hat’, and ‘Him’.” 

“Him.” Virgil’s skin was on fire, with wrong, wrong, fucking wrong singing its heart out.

“You and Roman’s fusion, of course.”

So incredibly wrong.

\----

Logan shut the book promptly, “Now that that’s been clarified-” he slid the book back in place, tucked into the farhtest corner, “We can move on? Correct.”

“What?” Virgil said, voice faint and eyes glazed.

“We can move on from this topic...?” He frowned, “Or am I not correct?”

“You're…” Virgil blinked more rapidly, hands twitching, “We wha-Roman and me-?”

“Roman and I.” Logan easily corrected, he ignored the creeping darkness tracing the edges of the walls, skittering from the light yet attracting it all at once, how the walls seemed so small yet so-

“You know what I fucking mean L,” Virgil hissed, roughly brushing back his bangs, “-- like sure I remember Ro back then was hell but when did--what, when? Why-”

“You two fused, in middle school,” Logan provided, “That’s That.” his eyes traced the way the unseen sparks of color traced his bed, and scattered across the sheets-

“But why?” Virgil was shaking all over, but his voice dripped with accusation. 

“I…Puberty and hormonal changes often-” Logan shook his head, “I don’t und-Rephrase the question.”

Virgil’s fist clenched, and he swallowed, “I know it happened, well I think it did, it’s like, familiar but--t just like doesn’t feel right, the reason I mean, like, it’s just…” his shoulders slumped,, “Wrong.” 

“Well,” Logan considered, “-fusion is inherently wrong and the negative effects on Thomas’s-” Virgil’s eyes flew up,unnaturally big, and the words died on Logan’s tongue.

“Describe this...wrong.” Logan said, instead. 

“Fusion itself doesn’t feel wrong," Virgil stressed, searching Logan, "-- it feels natural, y’know, like more, before everything became solid, before when we weren’t like sides, but...concepts--”

“I don’t know,” Logan said, “I don’t feel, at least not directly. Logic exists as it is, nothing more. Nothing more-noth, ” Ignore, ignore, ignore the lights-

“It’s just whenever I try to remember it, I feel like something’s miss-Wait,” Virgil frowned, “Did you just fuckin’… lie?” he stopped shaking “Like is there something you kno-”

 

“I don-” Logan swallowed, ignoring, ignoring, ignoring, “R-Vir-Virgil,” ignoring, “I’m fucking tired, I shouldn’t have accessed the memories.” They were so damn bright. 

“Logan are you-”

He sighed, “Yes, I am. Please...Just get some rest.”

The lights are bright and always will be bright, he just has to suck it up and learn to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow lo's pov???in /my/ beutiful trainwreck of a fic????huh and we dont have much of ro either 
> 
> (also i didnt mention this last chapter but i rlly want to draw the sides fusions traditionally inked and like i HAVE THE THUMBNAILS but fsdkljfl still aint done somebody @me so i can actually do this)


	18. I AM THE ONE

When Virgil teleported, he’s not sure what he expected of Thomas.

In fact, he wasn’t sure why he teleported there in the first place, it seemed like whenever he was alone with him, the situation only got worse. So, of course, he had obvious expectations. But being there, being in the now instead of the haze of the mindscape was...

Jarring. 

The cold rush, the creeping dread that came with being in reality and not tucked away in Thomas’s mind was a given, he was the fight, he was the flight, he was the freeze. 

He was Anxiety. 

But what was strange was that everywhere Virgil looked the same haze, that hung over the mindscape, the same disjointedness, was still present, amplified even. 

Crumpled papers of half scribbled musings laid discarded amongst the laundry, which was discarded in an ever-looming pile. He had obviously stripped his sheets for washing, but he never replaced them, instead just throwing on a quilt to sleep on top of. Sticky notes of to-do’s and reminders were stuck to the walls and tables one atop another, all in places Virgil know’s Thomas never looks. 

His critical gaze lingered on the lump curled into a pile of blankets.

“Thomas,” Virgil said, wincing at how his voice growled. 

Said purple lump rolled over, evident bags under his eyes, but otherwise wide awake.

Thomas sat up, “Virllll?,” He yawned, reaching to pick up his phone with a grimace, “What brings you at this lovely time of night?” 

“Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thomas sighed, brushing back his bangs, “That’s fuels most of your visits, love yah really, but why now and especially why at,” He squinted at his phone again, “Two-No- Three? Three am?” 

Virgil peered over his shoulder, “Is it really that late, hu-Nope,” he shook his head, “Not fucking the point k? Just, yes or no do you feel the slightest, and I mean the slightest, bit productive?” 

“I mean,” Thomas scratched his head, “Kiiiinda, you see we finished the script, but it-?”

Virgil inhaled, “ Thomas, bud, focus, Yes or no.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t know.” He slumped, “Yesterday was sorta productive, I guess?”

“You guess.” Virgil’s frowned deepened, “Don’t you feel nervous in the slightest?” he tested his influence, feeling the static crackling at his touch, like a creature preening in his hands. Too easily. But it shouldn’t be as overwhelming as the last “big” anxiety attack, but a decent amount. 

Thomas yawned, scratching his stomach lazily as he eyed Virgil. 

“Y….You don’t,” Virgil’s voice cracked, static burning his voice, “ You don’t feel nervous?” 

Thomas leaping between ideas, nothing seeming to stick. Planning to improve, to get back on track before throwing himself into another obsession, skipping on plans. Neglecting himself for progress. Progressing himself into neglect. 

Not getting enough sleep, yet seeming to do nothing but sleep. 

It wasn’t like was walking a line, balancing, or compromising, but being dragged about. Yanked between extremes. No wonder he’s tired.

No wonder. 

“I’m mighty fucking nervous,” Thomas drawled, with a laugh “ I just don’t care.”


	19. This Fire In My Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -we find out why thomas is me the week after taking three college exams

Blood pricked the back of their spine, running hot down their scales. The fusion rolled flew from the Dragon’s claws, the earth sparking as they crashed. Their ears throbbed, wounds and heart pulsating with the same warning. 

Slithering into the familiar nettles of the nearby brush, the fusion’s hair curled comfortingly around their hunched form. 

The Dragon roared. 

Her cry unnatural, like a distorted recording. 

Both worn through, but painfully present.

The fusions hair, snakes perhaps, whimpered, clinging closer to their skull. And all they could do was smile, their cheeks painfully pinched at the corners, a pink tongue of unknown origins flickering through every so often. 

They weren’t sure why they were here, but they could remember the ache to feel whole.

The need to have it. 

The fear of losing it.

A tempting luxury, a privilege one to argue, to be a little more than apart. To be a little more than defined. So to be fair to the dragon, they could understand why’d she’d want it. Such a shame, they aren’t a side, simply a by-product. A by-product of fusion, a by-product of fission if one were to be specific. 

Roman did love his experiments. 

They….His? His snakes purred at the thought. Yes, Roman is who he needs to locate, and there is an easy solution and an easy solution, neither are entirely pleasant but one is more painful than the other. 

The painful reminder crashed into the trees, heat licking the air playfully against his scales, but he didn’t feel any burn. A good sign to say the least. 

Logan seems to be holding up in some capacity. 

Her screamed cracked in the air again. 

Logan seems to be holding. 

Trees beside him crashed, disjointed as he painfully supported his body around the chaos. He needed an out, that was useful and got him to Roman. He needed to avoid getting caught in another unfinished plot. He needed- he needed.

He stopped, awkwardly posed half beneath a fallen log, and some fairy-tale cart. 

He was not Thomas’s needs, he was most certainly not his logic. 

Slowly he uncurled himself, a bald-faced lie, who didn’t need to see in order to play the game. In one motion, he turned around, retracing his trail, with the world a blur behind him. Although, it wasn’t difficult seeing as she definitely inherited the loud and destructive tendencies from Roman, with none of the songs. 

His snakes flared, and he slowed before jerking his body to a halt. Feeling the talon of the Dragon Witch’s foot barely skim their chest. All at once, they threw themselves up. Stretching and extending to attach the Dragon-witch, her scales scalding underneath him. 

She shook, teeth gnashing with flames. He skirted the edge of her wings, dipping into the creases of the leather, before springing up to her back as her wings unfurled. Lethargic, but powerful. Wind cutting into his cheek as her wings caught air. He kept climbing until he was leveled with her gaping mouth. Its furnace only growing as her eyes narrowed onto him. 

Her gold eyes were speckled with violet, he noted, as he flung himself into her flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you expected an april fools joke im sorry??? i guess?? i ment to post this yesterday but it was like 1 am( cause i watched the ts sanders sides video and made fanart aND wrote this chapter) so i sleeept and like i was already planning on adding rociet but like now that urge is s t r o n g e r it should be here in one or two chapters if i stick to the plan


	20. What's (Down) Below? We'll Never Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (end of longing)

Falling was still unpleasant, but at least this time he wasn’t alone. He drifted aimless, the threat of heat nothing but a distant memory. 

As he fell, he was many things. Sweltering smiles, held tongues, changing faces. Patton couldn’t tell where the bittersweet embrace of morality began, Deceit couldn’t tell where the quiet protection of himself ended. 

Yet they still coiled together, desperate to find out. 

Among the noise of silence, it was the wind they heard first. 

Patton’s eyes were the first ones to open. 

Gasping he curled into himself, the air crisp yet surroundings were a haze. 

Beyond the trees, slivers of violet light filtered through. A perpetual afternoon held the forest like a dying breath. Even within the last forest, you could see the scuffle of imagined critters, the shifting, and melding of the imagination to and from its light. 

Now it was a painted frame, waiting to be lived through. 

Patton stood, brushing the dirt from the green leather of his gloves, fighting the wave of nausea that flowed through him. He focused on his senses, seeing what he could feel. Or rather what he couldn’t feel. He could feel the breeze, he couldn’t feel the ground. 

He could feel them, he could feel Thomas. 

He could feel that Thomas stopped caring. 

That is when Deceit's eyes opened, jarring the unknown awake.

“Where are--” its voice croaked, audibly distorted. He focused his breathing and asked again, this time with Patton’s voice, “Where are we?”

“The imagination.” Deceit answered, scales creeping up his side. 

“Wha...Who are we?” the distorted voice now asked, now taking the time to look at themselves. Freckles bleeding into scales, grey into black. One too many fingers and he could see more then he wanted as if everything was magnified at all angles. 

“I…” Deceit started.

“Don’t know…” Patton finished.


	21. The Room Where It Happens (I Got To Be)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Last Time in Left Brain POV-
> 
> Thomas leaping between ideas, nothing seeming to stick. Planning to improve, to get back on track before throwing himself into another obsession, skipping on plans. Neglecting himself for progress. Progressing himself into neglect. 
> 
> Not getting enough sleep, yet seeming to do nothing but sleep. 
> 
> It wasn’t like was walking a line, balancing, or compromising, but being dragged about. Yanked between extremes. No wonder he’s tired.
> 
> No wonder. 
> 
> “I’m mighty fucking nervous,” Thomas drawled, with a laugh “ I just don’t care.”

“What do you mean you don’t care.” Virgil hissed, no longer caring how loud he was getting. 

Don't get him wrong, he was all for defeatist attitudes. Being the devil's advocate was a gift of his, but that was before he became the only plausible argument. 

Thomas blinked, rather unbothered, “I meant what I said,” He tucked the covers closer, “I. Thomas Sanders. Do not. Care, " He said with increasing irritation, " Can I go back to sleep now?” 

 

“No!” Virgil sputtered, “Of co-You ca-- just---Ugh” He threw his hands up as Thomas rolled over with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Thomas,” Virgil said, trying to reign in that frantic feeling. He knows Thomas can feel it, The entire mind palace should be on alert. But it felt muted. 

Ignored. 

All the anger stewing inside of him quieted, a wash of familiar rejection numbing his nerves. 

He disappeared from Thomas’s room without another word, appearing in the mindscape with nothing done or accomplished.

No real answers, no real explanations. 

He took the initiative, tried to bully his way through tried to make sense of why the mindscape felt so weird. Why his memories were so weird. But it felt like more questions were brought up then answered. 

He passed by Logan’s room without pause, waited by Roman and Deceit’s mirror, gave a wide berth to the startlingly quiet rooms of the other sides. 

Of course, he could always go back to his room, wait it out till something happens, wait till anything happens. But even the idea of going in there with nothing solid made his skin crawl. He couldn’t answer everything, but he needed to answer something. 

Starting with….the fusion, “Him”

While Virgil knows Logan wasn’t lying about him and Roman...doing that, it still felt off. Diluted. And it didn’t explain why Virgil felt like fusion relates to what’s going on now. He might not remember that time very well, but he was the gut instinct and instinct tells him that this has been a problem for longer than anyone was willing to admit. 

Roman disappearing was simply a catalyst. 

Virgil needed to find the reactants. 

He could go break into Logan’s room and snag their copy of memories, but they seemed...sparse. This felt like it dealt with more emotion than Logan was willing to divulge. 

He stopped his pacing, redirecting his path away from Logan’s towards an older part of the mindscape. 

Virgil sighed, stuffing his hands inside his pockets, before opening Patton’s door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey this is a thing, totally didn't get distracted writing something else nope complete and utter focuas

**Author's Note:**

> i was planning on posting this when i wrote the entire thing, but this makes me feel more accountable i guess???


End file.
